


My Sweet Bride

by TheMightyGhost



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Dark Loki (Marvel), F/M, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, King Loki (Marvel), Not Canon Compliant, Vampire Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 17:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyGhost/pseuds/TheMightyGhost
Summary: Old King Loki claims young Sig for his own one fateful night.





	My Sweet Bride

**Author's Note:**

> a little something for ya'll to sink your teeth into

It was said that their King had lived for a thousand lifetimes. He was ancient, they claimed, older than the stars themselves. He was old, older than any of his subjects, and whilst he retained a mostly youthful visage, there were signs of his old age: the silver flecks in his raven hair, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the weariness that seemed to surround him, the glint in his eyes as though he had seen horrors they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

King Loki was a ruthless, at times bloodthirsty, ruler. And tonight, he had chosen young Sig to be his prize.

Sig was dressed in a virginal gown that made her look like the fair maiden she had never been. She hadn’t been pure since that fateful night years ago when her ‘Uncle’ had taken her to his bedchambers under the guise of teaching her magic. He taught her something that night, though. He taught her never to trust men. 

But that was in the past. She was in the here and now. She was in the King’s opulent chambers stretched out on his queen-sized bed awaiting his untimely arrival. To pass the time, Sig counted the cracks in the ceiling, driving herself into a state of apathy.

A solitary figure emerged from seemingly nowhere. Sig, oblivious, started singing quietly to herself, closing her eyes as she imagined the dawn light on her bare skin, picturing herself dancing with the river nymphs she often admired from afar. Her blissful daydreaming was disturbed by an ice-cold hand snatching her ankle, yanking her down off the bed until she was sprawled on the floor.

“Hey! What the-” Sig rightfully cut herself off once she realised who she was speaking to. 

The King loomed over her like a lingering shadow, crimson in those ancient eyes sending a rush of terror through her. She swallowed, wishing she could flee, knowing she couldn’t if she wanted to live to see the new dawn. 

“My King…” she whispered, trying to sound reverent and failing miserably. “Forgive my words, I was merely taken by surprise…”

He regarded her with an ice-cold expression on his harsh, angular face. She had never been so close to the King before; she was a frequent guest at his dinner table, along with many other people of nobility, but she always sat as far away from him as possible. Something about the aura he emitted had always set her teeth on edge. But tonight it seemed she would have to endure him up close and personal.

“You are the one they call Sig.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“Y-Yes, I believe so, unless I’ve changed my name in the last… day....” Sig knew her usual blaise attitude when it came to figures of authority would not be tolerated by the King. She gulped audibly, lowering her gaze as humbly as possible. “It is a great honour to serve you tonight, my King.”

“No.”

She forgot herself for a moment, looking up at him in stark confusion. “No?”

“Do not lie to me, child. Your tongue is not yet skilled enough for such a task.”

She continued staring at him as though he had grown a second head. Meanwhile, the King stepped away from her and started unbuckling his armour, taking his time to remove each piece with the utmost care and respect. Sig watched, partly because she was fascinated by his behaviour, partly because she hadn’t realised how lithe and firm his body was until now. It was a shame he was so cruel, else she would have been begging for him to take her as his own. 

As though sensing her thoughts, the King looked over at her with the ghost of a smile on his thin lips. “Be careful what you wish for, Sig. I may just take you up on your offer.”

Sig paled.

* * *

Sig was in a daze. She couldn’t remember last night very well. All she knew was that it had resulted in her receiving a very painful bite to her neck, from what she wasn’t certain, but it couldn’t have been the King, surely? When she examined the bite in the mirror, there were two well-defined puncture holes that indicated someone with sharp canines had bitten her. But that would suggest that the King was a vampire, and that thought was utterly ludicrous. He may be older than sin, but she doubted he was one of the living dead.

She had felt his heart beat. She had seen the colour rising in his pasty white cheeks when he had… when he had what? What did he do to her last night? She definitely felt sore between her legs, so it was only natural to presume he had ravished her with his manhood. What else had he done to her?

She felt woozy, out of sorts. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth. She tried to eat breakfast but found herself cringing from the taste, from the stench. When she emptied her stomach into the toilet bowl, she brought up blood. Was she dying? Was she going to die? Had he somehow cursed her? Was she wounded? 

Being a hypochondriac meant her trips to the healers were frequent. However, this time when she saw the doctor, the old woman was horrified by what Sig told her. 

“You are cursed, child…” the old healer had whispered fearfully. 

“Cursed?” Sig felt tears pricking her eyes. “No, I can’t be cursed! I don’t want to be cursed, please do something, anything! I don’t want to be cursed!”

“There is a way… to absolve yourself of this foul taint.” 

“I’ll do it, whatever it is.”

“You must die and be reborn anew.”

Sig’s head slumped down into her arms. Was this his plan all along? To curse her and then kill her? And what did the healer mean about being reborn? She didn’t want to be reborn, she liked herself just the way she was, thank you very much! 

“I don’t want to die and be reborn!” Sig wailed like a petulant toddler. 

“Then I am afraid you shall forever suffer this foul, wretched curse.”

“Wait! Wait, I don’t-”

An ice cold presence loomed behind her, chilling her to the bone. Surprisingly gentle hands turned her around, making her come face to face with a softly smiling King. Her knees gave way but he caught her just in time.

“Oh, you shall make a sweet bride…” he cooed. 

“Bride…? What…” Sig felt weak, lightheaded. Hungry. “I’m so hungry, my King…”

“I know,” he crooned. “Which is why we shall feast together.”

His gaze turned upon the healer. The old woman started backing away, holding her wrinkled hands up defensively, as if that alone would save her soul. 

Sig was fading in and out of consciousness, deaf to the ear-splitting screams, oblivious to all save for the ice-cold presence holding her aloft. Warm liquid graced her lips, the sweetest taste reaching her tongue, life-giving sustenance drawing her out of her exhaustion and sickness, life seeping all the way to the tips of her toes and fingers. 

She exhaled shakily. She licked the sweetness from her lips, her tongue brushing over sharpened canines. Her King gazed down at her proudly, almost fondly. 

“I have chosen wisely,” he said to himself. His red-stained lips met hers in a chaste kiss. “My sweet bride, did you enjoy your meal?”

“Yes, my King.” She glanced around surreptitiously, hoping for more. Her eyes drifted to the twitching form on the floor, focusing on the bite mark on the old woman’s throat. She licked her lips, slowly going down until she was leaning over the barely-breathing old woman. Sig sunk her newly-sharp teeth into the soft mortal flesh, guzzling greedily and triumphantly. When she finally had her fill, she sat up and grinned toothily at her King, crimson droplets trickling down her chin. 

Her King extended his warm hand towards her, which she accepted without question. 

“My King…” she whispered reverently. 

“My sweet bride…” he murmured, bending down to claim her lips in his. “Let us retire to my chambers. I intend to make you my true Queen on this fair night.”

And together, they walked away, leaving the dead body of the old healer to finish bleeding out on the stone cold floor. 


End file.
